


How they could have known

by Upstarsfromreality



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Post-Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-10-11 11:08:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17445785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Upstarsfromreality/pseuds/Upstarsfromreality
Summary: Does what it says on the box. This will be a series of one shots demonstrating how different characters could have figured out Sherlock was alive after the fall. The character in the chapter name is the one to figure it out.





	1. Greg

Chapter 1: Greg

Molly stood up to finish the conversation. “It's not that I don't want to do it, John. It just wouldn't be a good idea.”

“So you're not going to help me,” said the man leaning against her lab bench.

“Not this way, John,” said Molly. “I will be there for you, and I will help you, but I will not write this letter. It wouldn't help you.”

“Ok, Molly. Thanks for listening.” John slumped out.

Molly leaned back against her wall for a bit. She could still have ruined her own career trying to save Sherlock. She was glad to have been able to do it. Sherlock could easily have died for real if she hadn't. She'd be damned before she'd let John guilt her into ruining his career as well. The whole thing was bound to come out sometime. Once it did, a letter from a forensic pathologist who'd falsified records would do the ex-surgeon no favors.

Molly got back to work, taking her time with the examination. She was well trained,thorough, and very good. More than once she had found a detail indicating a murder that anyone else, even another medical examiner, would have seen as natural death. Molly knew that was why Sherlock had tried to be nice to her, to the small extent that he had. She saw things that others missed.

Two hours later, a knock interrupted Molly's work. She opened the door to let Greg in. “Molly, you've got to write this letter for John. He's at his wit's end. You saw how depressed he is. He can't be a surgeon, not with the nerve damage from his shoulder injury. He'd be bored to tears as a GP and might be so bored he wouldn't be good at it. As for something like his last job, there just aren't that many want ads for 'sidekick to a superhero.’ He needs this, Molly. You know he wouldn't have asked if he didn't need this.”

Molly waited patiently for the tirade to wind down before she spoke. “Greg, I'll tell you the same thing I told John: a letter from me wouldn't help him.”

“Molly,” protested Greg, “that's bollocks and you know it. John finally decided he might try forensic path, but he needs to get into a program. You're the one person he knows in the field. Of course a letter from you would help. Oh, God, do you mean you'd have to write a bad one?”

“Of course not, Greg. John would be great at it. I'm the reason a letter wouldn't help,” explained Molly. She hoped she hadn't revealed too much.

“Don't be silly, Molly,” argued the inspector. “You're too good at your job to have made some career-ending mistake, and too good a person to have done anything unethical. You wouldn't take a bribe to save your life, or lie for anyone, either.” 

As he spoke, Molly saw Greg's face change. She knew he had figured out the one person she would lie for. His next words proved it: “Molly,is Sherlock alive?”

Molly squeaked then said, “Please Greg, you mustn't tell John. It would put them both in danger if he knew.”

“Oh don't worry, Molly,” said Greg, “I am not going to tell John. I am going out right now to yell at Mycroft. If nothing else, he'll see you won't suffer professionally for saving his brother's life. Then it will be up to you whether to write the letter or not.” Greg left Molly to hope he was right.


	2. Mrs. Hudson

Mrs. Hudson let her visitor into the kitchen. She tempered her instinctive dislike for the man with sympathy for what he must have been through. She goes through the motions of making tea and getting out biscuits, but the man in front of her is unable to either eat or drink.

“Mycroft,” says Mrs. Hudson, “I am so sorry for your loss.”

“It's all right, Mrs. Hudson. I didn't protect him, and I have to live with that, but it will be all right,” says Mycroft Holmes.

Seeing that Mycroft either can't or won't admit to missing his brother, Mrs. Hudson switches to business. “His share of the rent is paid up for three months. You can have as long as you need to take care of his things.”

“Actually, Mrs. Hudson,” said Mycroft, “I came to see if I could pay his share a little longer. Dr. Watson should not lose this place to my brother's selfishness or my carelessness.”

Mrs. Hudson looked as closely at Mycroft as she dared. It didn't make sense that a man who sent his little brother to confront CIA killers would go out of his way to protect that brother's flatmate from losing his home. Nor would it even do any good. “That's very considerate of you, Mycroft, but I'm afraid John doesn't want the flat any longer. He told me yesterday that he couldn't bear to stay there now.”

“That may very well not be permanent. Allow me to pay just a couple of extra months, and then we can see where we are.”

Mrs. Hudson can't see much point in it but agrees, accepting the money and letting Mycroft know that pays up through June. “I suppose that means you don't want to clean it out just at present,” she says, “but can I let you in to take anything you or your parents might want to remember Sherlock by? Everything is exactly how he left it.”

“No, thank you,” replies Mycroft, “Exactly how he left it will be the best way to remember him.” He makes no move to go in and look.

Suddenly Mrs. Hudson understands. Mycroft is not preserving Sherlock's flat for John, or even in memory of Sherlock. He's preserving it for Sherlock. She decides it's probably best not to say anything. Just as well the British Government not know she knows that. “Take care of yourself, Mycroft,” she says as he heads for the door.


	3. John

Mary Morstan poured her packet of sugar substitute into her tea and asked the waitress for some real sugar. John started to protest that he could get by with the substitute, but Mary smiled at him. She'd only been dating this intense, sad man a few months, but she knew his habits well. Mary might mess about with decaf lattes in the evening or artificial sweetener when she wanted to trim down. John, though, would take his coffee black and bitter, his tea milky and sweet, both as true as they come, until the end of time. “Oh, come on, John,” she teased him, “You know you can't stand fake sugar. You pull a face every time you have to use it.”

“I suppose I don't like it much, but I can drink it,” said John. Then he froze. “Say that again!”

Mary was puzzled, but complied, “You can't stand fake sugar.”

John stared at her and almost shouted. “You're right I can't stand fake sugar. But I do use it. I would never use fraudulent sugar.”

Mary was worried now. She knew John had PTSD, but she hadn't seen an episode yet. She hoped for his sake that this wasn't one. She tried to calm him down as best she could. “I'm sure you wouldn't, but there's no fraudulent sugar here. See, it's all clearly labelled.” She showed him her packet of artificial sweetener. “No one's trying to say it's really sugar.”

“That's not what this is about!” John really was shouting now. 

Mary paid the bill and took him out of the cafe into the open air. She looked straight at him, breathing slowly. “John, calm down. Breathe a little slower for me and then you can tell me what it's about.” She demonstrated long, slow breaths.

John calmed down just a fraction and started talking fast. “It's about the words. I just realized there's a difference between fake and fraudulent. Fraud is always a lie. Fake only sometimes is.”

“Ok, John,” said Mary, speaking slowly to slow him down. “I can see that. But can you tell me what it's about?”

John swallowed twice and shut his eyes. “Before Sherlock - before Sherlock went up to the roof, the papers, the internet, everybody was saying that made up the crimes. They all called him a fraud.”

“I know, John,” said Mary. “I remember reading it and I can see how much it hurt you.”

“But, Mary” John explained, “Sherlock never said he was a fraud. Even in that last phone call, he said he was a fake. That's not the same.” He pulled the packet of sweetener he'd nicked from the cafe out of his pocket to demonstrate. “A thing - or a person - can be completely fake and totally legitimate. I don't even think he was talking about the crimes when he said that.”

“Then what do you think he was talking about?” Asked Mary. 

John looked a little wildly from Mary to the sweetener. “His death,” he finally said. “I think Sherlock faked his death.”

Mary wanted to believe John, but had to ask, “Could one word mean all that?”

“Of course it could,” said John. “The man once took and solved a case just on the difference between 'dog’ and 'hound’. I've got to go talk to his brother.”

John pulled away and summoned a taxi before Mary had a chance to worry about him.


End file.
